


Turning of the Tide: Sunday Night

by TabithaJean



Series: Turning of the Tide [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: And Melissa is alive, Early Partnership, Episode: s01e15 Lazarus, emerging UST, post episode, still figuring it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:36:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabithaJean/pseuds/TabithaJean
Summary: Three days after Jack Willis and Lula Phillips hold Scully hostage, Mulder comes to check on Scully before her return to work. Told from her perspective, and is a book end to my other Turning of the Tide.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Turning of the Tide [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757398
Kudos: 25





	Turning of the Tide: Sunday Night

**Author's Note:**

> I really like exploring early Mulder and Scully! This was fun. I hope you like it. :)

Cello swirls around the room like rich wine. Melissa had taken all the noise with her when she left earlier that evening, and Scully fills the vacuum with Bach’s Number 1 in G Major. She had refused to let Missy cancel dinner plans with her college friend. Now Scully tests her independence after witnessing the murder of her ex-boyfriend and being held hostage. And that’s the sane version. 

She had thought it would be difficult to sleep that first night. She was found on a Thursday, Missy arrived on Friday, and nights have since been her balm. The days run on a treadmill. She stays in motion for hours after the darkening of the January skies, checking the time only to find it’s always earlier than expected. She looks forward to the crawling into her comforter and wrapping herself in sleep.

‘What are you trying to prove?’ Missy had asked when she found Scully cleaning her cupboards. ‘Linen closets don’t even need cleaning. Why don’t you just stop?’

Missy had come as soon as she received the call, as Scully knew she would. Their brother has written Missy off as flaky, but that’s the easy option, requiring the least work on his part. Missy’s love is fierce and loyal. She would drop anything to help her sister. She arrived armed with two bags of tiny stones which she distributed around the apartment in little bowels: amazonite to deal with trauma, amethyst for healing and stress relief. Scully rakes her fingers through the stones on the table next to her, enjoying their refreshing cold. They provide a similar comfort to the Mass: faith that you’re not alone when you need support. The peace of the Lord be with you always. Words carry their history with them, and Scully finds the same power in Missy’s stones too. 

The skin on Scully’s neck prickles when the music stops. Jack is suddenly sitting in the chair opposite her, face grey and shining with sweat. She blinks and he’s replaced by her Dad mouthing his silent message. She hasn’t seen him since that night. Her chest aches and she imagines her heart physically tearing. _Dad I want to hear you so bad. I want to I want to I want to._ She inhales deeply, gripping the stones, focussing on each individual edge against her skin. She is alone in the room.

_But Dad was there. That night. And now?_

There’s a sharp knock at her door, and Scully drops the stones. They scatter under the coffee table. Looking through the peephole, she pauses when she sees Mulder. He doesn’t just stop by. Other than when he dropped her home, the last time he was in her apartment was when they caught Tooms. She opens the door warily.

‘Mulder,’ she says as he hands her a bottle of wine. ‘What is this? A “congratulations you got away” gift?’

‘More like a “sorry it didn’t happen on a Monday when you could get more time off work” gift.’ She smiles and takes the wine. They both know she refused the additional time off she was offered.

‘Do you mind if I save this? I just don’t feel like…’

‘Yeah, sure, of course.’ He follows her to the kitchen where she automatically turns on the kettle.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘A coffee would be great.’

‘It’s 8:30 at night, Mulder.’

‘Ah, you can sleep when you’re dead, Scully.’

_Jack was dead. And then he died again._

‘Scully? I’m sorry.’ Scully blinks and sees Mulder had stepped towards her, concerned. ‘That was stupid of me.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she breezes. ‘It was just a joke, I know. Tea?’

‘Uh, yeah…tea’s fine.’ She busies herself making the drinks. He sits next to her on the couch. She knows he favours physical proximity and emotional distance. She likes his proximity when they’re on the road. It anchors her to DC somehow. But in her apartment, her living room, on her couch, she feels encroached upon and curls herself further into the corner of the cushions.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure, Mulder?’ she asks. She scalds her tongue as she sips her tea too early in an attempt to find something to do with her hands.

‘I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.’ He rests his arm along the back of the couch, and she tightens her legs under her. ‘I’m sorry about Jack.’

‘Thank you.’ Scully plaits the fringe of her throw rug. ‘The truth is, until now, I hadn’t even thought about him in years.’

‘Still hurts though doesn’t it.’

‘Yeah…. He was a good guy. I keep thinking of his little brother… and what he’ll do without Jack.’ Having plaited all available fringe, she pulls them apart, upsetting the order she’d created. ‘I hope he’s ok.’

‘And are _you_ ok?’ Mulder is gentle, but her neck flushes with imagined pressure. What is he asking here? Is he wondering when she’ll return to work? Whether she’s now damaged in some way? Whether he can rely on her when they’re in the field?

‘I’m fine.’ She sips again and burns her tongue on the same spot.

‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’ She puts down the mug and runs her teeth over the burn. She looks directly at him. ‘I am.’

‘That’s good.’ There is relief in his loose smile. She gave the right answer; she’s pleased with herself.

‘You know this isn’t your fault, right? This was just a work situation which went horribly wrong?’

‘I know. Horribly wrong. There’s a part of me that feels… responsible. It was _my_ theory.’

‘Mulder, your theory had nothing to do with what happened. People can’t return from the dead with someone else’s soul inside. There’s nothing about this case which suggests otherwise, and there’s certainly no evidence supporting your hunch.’

_Jack did it. Jack had someone else’s soul._

Mulder stays quiet, unwilling to rise to the challenge. It annoys her, and she sits up straight, squaring her shoulders to face him front on. ‘Come on, Mulder! You know that’s not possible.’

‘Isn’t it?’ He asks.

_Boggs did it too. Did you get my message, Starbuck?_

Scully stares at him, her frustration boiling. She grips the soft fabric of the couch. She wants him to argue back, needs the normalcy of their dynamic. He doesn’t engage and they sit in silence.

‘What are they?’ Mulder asks eventually, bending to pick up an amethyst. Scully exhales loudly.

‘Melissa brought them. They’re to help my healing,’ she murmurs, relaxing now they’ve moved on. Her arms are heavy.

‘Help your healing?’ Mulder asks with faint derision. ‘And you thought I was full of “theories”.’

Scully laughs and unexpected joy steamrolls the anxiety away. She loves her sister. She likes her partner. He’d been shot recently, she had feared that he too might slip away, yet here he is bringing her wine and checking up on her.

Since Thursday, she scans every room she enters for signs of the dead, a habit she picked up after she lost her dad and which she knows was a manifestation of her grief. Knowing it doesn’t help though. Work helped her to shake it the first time: diving into whatever conundrum Mulder presented, enjoying the challenge it posed to her understanding of the world and beyond. When that wasn’t enough, she returned to the words of the Mass. This evening, though, she is reminded that the people around her care deeply, holding her up in the same way puppeteers support their dolls, helping her to continue her dance.

‘Actually, they do bring some comfort.’ She takes the stones he’s collected and tips them back into their bowl protectively. ‘I don’t know why. It’s stupid.’

‘Scully, there’s nothing’s stupid about belief. Everyone puts their faith somewhere.’ His voice makes her skin melt, and she’s suddenly very tired. ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’

‘I want to believe, right?’

‘Exactly.’ He puts his hand over hers. It’s dry, calloused, so different to the smooth stones she held earlier. ‘Although, there are better things to put your faith in. I’ll see your pretty pebbles and raise you an extra-terrestrial.’

She laughs again, which turns into a stifled yawn.

‘I should go. I just wanted to check in.’ He stands, and they walk to the door. ‘Did you get your appointment?’

‘Yeah, they called. It’s tomorrow morning. I just hope I pass the evaluation and can return to work.’ 

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ They are awkward at the door, not sure of how to close the visit. She is giddy, like she’s 17 and saying goodbye to Marcus at her parents’ house. Eventually he leans in and kisses her cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, partner,’ he whispers into her ear.

‘See you tomorrow. I’ll be there after eleven, if all goes well.’ She closes the door, inhaling his leftover scent. Her cheek tingles. The apartment is silent, weighted with anticipation of Melissa’s return. Scully walks through the living room alone and thinks _the peace of the Lord be with you always._


End file.
